


Flowers.

by Damablanca



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-26
Updated: 2015-09-26
Packaged: 2018-04-23 10:00:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4872559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Damablanca/pseuds/Damablanca
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He said to himself, that one day, he would have the courage to buy her flowers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flowers.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hidingmyheart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hidingmyheart/gifts).



> This is a translation of [Flores](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2442056).  
> Thanks to [Hidingmyheart](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Hidingmyheart)

Jaime knew her for a long time. He had seen her arrive every day in her blue Beetle and park in the space 49.Always watching her walk gently to the entrance of the building, greet the doorman with kindness and disappear into the swing of revolving doors. Although he arrived earlier, he stayed in his Bugatti just to see her enter first. Without knowing how, it had become a habit.

When Brienne was in a good mood, her bright smile was enough to enlighten her whole face, and even her eyes seemed bluer and more profound.  She always bought something at the florist of the parking. Her favorites were the yellow lilies. She never bought roses.

Bad days began with shy glances and pursed lips. Those were days of eternal gray, as if winter would have sent an advance of its bitterly cold breath to the world.

He knew that she hated skirts, because she only wears them when the etiquette required it. Dark trousers and straight cut jackets were the usual for job every morning. In the evening, sports clothes and running shoes, he guessed, by the way the muscles of her legs were draw, the rare times that he saw her with a probably cursed skirt, the hem just above the knees.

With the passing of the years, her hair would suffer some changes, sometimes shorter, sometimes longer, but always the same straw color, which barely shines in the sun. She always let it grow more when the Tyrrells appeared with any account to be able to work together. In addition, if Catelyn or Sansa joined at the season, soon appeared undulations that fell on her shoulders and in extreme cases, some hairstyle taken from a fashion magazine.

Luckily, that didn’t last overly and everything was back to normal without too much effort.

Catelyn had given them their first job together. He realized by her angrily gaze that it was the least she wanted in the world, and Jaime obviously felt insulted, eager to fight. But after stopping to take a look at her sapphire blue eyes all thought had dissipated. Whole days in the office had taught him how she liked her coffee, and that she had lunch at the same time each day.

Everything seemed to be so strict with her. Her way to work, discuss, and think. She was very hard with him, and did not regret it. He knew she behaved different with other people though. When Podrick brought her agenda of the day, she was sweet and warm, just as she was with Pia, when the girl interrupted the meetings by important messages (they were almost usually family issues, which Jaime’s secretary had never attempted to evade for him).  Sometimes, he thought that Brienne had spent too much time with Cat, sometimes, he feared it. Catelyn should have shared things about him, she would have warned Brienne  _about him._ Trying to protect her from the danger that a Lannister represented. Protect her against the risk of having someone like Jaime near. But she was too professional to not do the job. She tolerated it with stoic temperance. As almost anything in her life.

A sleepless night forced him to lift up the telephone and call Bronn to investigate her. The Internet had given misleading information and details that he did not want to believe. In this way he learn everything he knew about her family, about Tarth, about Renly… too many things… for a moment he felt close to her, as if they shared a secret.

Before he knew it, they closed the business with the client and Brienne returned to her office; just across the hall and a world away from him. He knew that he was not making it easy for her. Mornings when he started a chat with a racy joke, a comment that sounded a lot like criticism, a phrase that was the initial stab of a discussion. He drove her crazy and he knew it very well. Something inside him was pursuing it. He craved attack, he craved being wounded.

Not even six month had passed when he made Tyrion give them another business to seal. It was a difficult one, and his little brother seemed grateful for the extra help, even if it was an almost impossible task. In fact they lost. Pod, Pia and that red haired girl named Rose were part of the team. Was the idea of the new girl to go out and look for a bar to get drunk to the point of unconsciousness. Brienne had only drunk two jars of beer when she fell asleep on his shoulder, muttering something about flowers. She looked so young that way, so innocent. The freckles were spread out on her skin as dark gold nuggets, as far as he could imagine, and her thick lips, slightly parted, painting a tacit invitation in the early morning darkness. 

He took her home and Pia stayed with her. He requested his outstanding holiday and decided to take the council of Varys and travel to the Riverlands the first week. A month after, she was who had called him. Another account, also difficult. Yet fewer possibilities. He found himself saying yes without hesitation and returning to the office. One night he told her everything, every detail of his life, even the darkest and most unpleasant one, along with everything that was worth. She stroked his cheek, only once. Her touch was so warm… he realized that she looked at him different after that.

Before they could submit a bid the accident occurred. Brienne survived with some broken ribs, but the damage on her face would leave a scar on one of the cheeks. Jaime had lost mobility on his right hand. Which luckily had been saved from amputation.  She was driving, but he had distracted her with something that now he could not remember. They blamed her for everything.

After leaving the hospital Brienne had taken refuge in the solitude of her apartment. He in anger and work. He did not seek her for a long time, although a part of him wanted to. Just forget about the physical therapy, the family, his duties and knock down her fucking door at once.

Sansa was who convinced her to return to work. Half time at the beginning. Only to fix paperwork. It soon became full-time. Then overtime. They both lived buried in files and numbers of transactions, to two steps away, barely sharing a greeting.

He saw her pass with her cup of coffee, any attempt to hide her scar useless. There were no smiles for a long time. Even her blushes had dwindled. She was no longer such a child.  However, her eyes remained just as blue.

He said to himself, that one day, he would have the courage to buy her flowers.

What he could do in the meantime was to begin again, with something witty.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading.


End file.
